


Yawned before Yawning

by Eli0t, infiniteworld8



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexual Quentin Coldwater, Asexuality, Asexuality Spectrum, Awkward Blow Jobs, Awkward Quentin Coldwater, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, M/M, Masturbation in Bathroom, POV Eliot Waugh, Protective Eliot Waugh, Romantic Fluff, Sex-Neutral Quentin Coldwater, Sharing a Bed, Stress Relief, Stress Relief Blowjob, Studying, Walking In On Someone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-11-01 23:01:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20536964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eli0t/pseuds/Eli0t, https://archiveofourown.org/users/infiniteworld8/pseuds/infiniteworld8





	Yawned before Yawning

The lights were out in Margo’s room, moonlight slipped through the window giving everything an ethereal air. Eliot cuddled closer to Margo’s warm body, enjoying the way her silky pajamas pressed against his bare chest and the scent of her jasmine shampoo in her hair. 

Eliot ran his finger through her strands as he talked aloud. “Bambi, can you believe another semester is coming to a close?”

“Mhmm” Margo murmured sleepily. 

“Another group of students, passing through Brakebills’ hallowed halls. I wonder how many of them are up studying tonight?” Eliot slipped his hand from Margo’s hair and down to her shoulders absently rubbing them as he mused “Quentin’s probably--definitely up studying...were we ever like that Bambi? “

“I don’t know, El.” Margo muttered. 

“Quentin really needs to stop worrying so much, he jumps at his own shadow. Always walking around campus clutching his school bag like it’s a lover, that floppy ridiculous haircut of his falling in his face.” Eliot continued unaware Margo had turned to look at him. “He’s going to come to exams exhausted and how does he expect to do well if he’s up all night? Either that or he fell asleep with his head in a text book, proper sleep is--”

Eliot stopped abruptly as Margo placed a finger over his mouth. Her words were deliberate and held more than a hint of irritation. “Not another word about Quentin.”

“But--”

Margo pressed her finger tighter to Eliot’s lips. “If you are so worried about Quentin, go fuck him.”

Eliot couldn’t denythat the thought of him and Quentin hadn’t crossed his mind but he feigned shock. “Bambi, you don’t think I would take advantage of an impressionable…”

Margo snorted. “Oh come on El, I know you. Fuck Quentin, or check on Quentin or do both, but this isn’t your concerned obession with a new student, this is your hornier than a two dicked goat obession with the campus fresh meat. So go, but you’re not sleeping in my bed and talking all night….I need my beauty sleep.” Margo ended her comment with a pointed shove and pulled her sleep mask down with a note of finality.

Eliot feigned indignation for all of two seconds before getting out of bed and slipping out of Margo's room. 

The physical kids cottage was quiet this time of night. The last remnants of partying had given way to peaceful creaks of the house’s old timbers and the sways of beams laden heavy with the weight of magic and years. Eliot couldn't even make himself believe that he had to take more than a second to remember where Quentin's room was among the seemingly endless dorm rooms that popped up whenever a new physical kid appeared. 

The light was still on and Eliot hesitated before knocking. There was no answer but the door was unlocked when he tried the handle. 

"Quentin?" Eliot gingerly pushed open the door expecting to find Quentin fast asleep with his face stuck to a textbook of hand gestures for weather spells or ways to detect charms on animals and instead was treated to stacks of paper piled haphazardly on the desk and floor. With textbooks scattered half open on the bed and a seemingly never ending amount of posts and note cards in tidy piles all over the room. 

It was ordered chaos, Quentin's speciality. Eliot would have looked over Quentin's room more but he heard a peculiar series of sounds coming from the adjoining bathroom. The bathroom door was locked tight when he tried it and the shower was on, but there was also a peculiar series of gasping interspersed with hitched breathing and slight moans. 

Eliot, walked closer wondering what was up, halfway torn between knocking and just leaving Quentin to whatever he was up to when he noticed two red drops about an inch apart. 

They were the unmistakable color of blood. Eliot had read Quentin's file (it was a habit he made with most Brakebills students, how else was he supposed to find the truly interesting tidbits) and Quentin's was a clusterfuck of psychiatric hospitalizations, failed medication regimens, and therapy sessions spanning years. 

Brakebill’s staff liked to act like magic fixed everything but Eliot still didn't agree with their idea of pulling students off meds and magically trying to solve what was wrong or in many cases just brute force ignoring the issue. And the faculty had a disturbing habit of saying students mental issues were related to latent magic and potential not being fulfilled.

Fuck that. Eliot himself was living proof magic didn't fix anything except now he could at least get good drugs and wasn't totally miserable every moment. 

All the scenarios of what could be going on behind the closed bathroom door overrode any caution he had at opening Quentin's _locked, private_ bathroom. 

He crooked his fingers in the motions for an unlocking charm as he muttered the words for the spell under his breath. The lock opened with a click and Eliot twisted the knob. His heart was thundering in his chest. 

He was prepared for scenes of knives or blood and instead...he found Quentin bent halfway over at the sink. His left hand was braced on the counter and the other hand was down the front of his pajama pants very obviously stroking himself. His eyes were tightly closed and squinted like he was either in pain or concentrating on some complex problem. To add insult to injury the whole bathroom was filled with steam and Quentin was bright red in the face and making awkward little whines of desperation. 

Eliot felt his entire face go red and muttered a quiet "fuck". Quentin looked fucking gorgeous...for all of 2 seconds before his eyes flew open and he ripped his hand from his pants like he had been caught doing something illegal. 

There was a pregnant pause as they stared at each other in silent shock. Then Quentin muttered. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"You had the door locked." Eliot stammered trying to catch the thread of what he wanted to say. 

Quentin didn't give him a chance. "For a reason."

"I came to check on you."

"I'm fine." Quentin's face was bright red and now he was staring at the floor looking anywhere but at Eliot. "More than fine actually so if you want to…" Quentin trailed off but looked pointedly at the door still not meeting Eliot's eyes. 

"I saw blood on the floor." Eliot continued feeling like he needed to defend himself from Quentin who was obviously and rightfully upset at being barged in on. "I wasn't trying to...walk in on you jerking off and --"

Eliot didn't finish as Quentin snapped irritatedly. "I cut my finger and then....I wasn't jerking off--" Quentin stopped himself, turned the shower off and walked squirting some hand sanitizer in his hands, vigorously rubbing them together. “Who the hell, opens someone’s locked bathroom door then comes in and starts accusing them of---”...Quentin trailed off.

He brushed past Eliot, who stood aside to let him leave the bathroom, and walked over to a chair before grabbing a pile of note cards and starting to tidy the stack. 

Eliot couldn't stop himself. "I'm pretty sure that weird ass scene I walked into was you jerking off. It would be you that closes your eyes and looks like you're in pain."

"So now you're making fun of the way I get off?"

"What if I was?" Quentin.

"If you were, I'd say you were doing it wrong...there shouldn't be pain involved, maybe don't be so forceful...slow down...enjoy things more..I could show you if you want." Eliot couldn't help adding the last part with a suggestive wink. 

Eliot smirked, leaning against Quentin's dresser. "Thought you said you weren't?"

Quentin either didn't hear or more likely ignored the last part. "Not all of us are trying to make a production out of getting off, I cut my finger on a textbook, went to bandage it and I've been needing to _you know--_" Quentin made a vague embarrassed hand gestures "all night, I figured I could get it over with and then I could focus better on studying." Quentin grabbed a piece of paper off his desk, read something off it and then crumpled it up and muttered under his breath so quiet, Eliot almost didn't hear. "It's fucking annoying, like having to brush your teeth."

"What?" Eliot frowned.

Quentin looked up confused "_What?"_

"How is it anything like brushing your teeth?"

Quentin went red again. "Because it's annoying and like something you need to do but doesn't make you really feel that great? Like a fresh mouth is great but brushing your teeth is annoying and I don't really want to brush my teeth or--" Quentin stopped, turning away again, his shoulders slumped. 

"So you don't like sex?" 

"I didn't say that?"

"Ahhh so this is where you say you're not gay or bi and let me off gently?" Eliot said trying to keep the disappointment out his voice and also genuinely curious. 

"Getting off isn't sex...but since you're probably not going to let this go...I don't really care about sex…"  
  
Eliot just stared at him for a minute, letting the words hang in the air. “Seriously, is this just your way of letting me down gently, because it’s fine. You don’t have to go making up some story just to tell me to back off. It was more of a joke anyways, didn’t have to mean anything.” Eliot half-heartedly chuckled at the end of his little speech, trying to keep his air of cool distance intact.  
  
"I'm not lying. Why would I?"  
  
“Come on Quentin. That’s not... No one doesn’t care about sex. It’s like, a basic part of being human.”

"So, now I'm not human?" Quentin sighed. "You're starting to sound like half my therapists. Apparently not being interested in sex is _indicative of a greater problem."_  
  
“I… you’re serious? This isn’t just you, pulling some prank? You’ve actually spoken to therapists about this before, and aren’t just making it up?”

"I'm serious. They thought at first it was my meds. Then a couple of them said it was related to my depression...let's see--" Quentin started ticking a list off his fingers. "Hormonal imbalance, pyschosis, I'm gay, I'm straight, I have a paraphilia to fictional characters interfering with normal human interaction...oh and my personal favorite I have supressed memories of childhood abuse that have interfered with my _normal_ adult sex life. So take your pick."

“If all of your therapists have said something is wrong, and it’s still affecting you, why do you seem to be acting like nothing is wrong with your body?” Eliot winced, wondering did he sound like a dick, and tried again in what he hoped was a more tactful way to get an answer. “Can you explain what you mean by not liking sex?”

Quentin sat on the bed, rolling a scrap of paper between his fingers. "I _didn’t _say anything about not liking sex. There's nothing wrong with me. Therapists can be wrong too you know. I've looked it up there's a word for it even...asexual?"

Quentin looked up hopefully and when he didn't see a glimmer of understanding in Eliot's eyes he continued. "It's not that I can't like...find sex pleasurable. Everything works it's just, I don't find people attractive like that and I don't really care about sex it's...Yes, I you know..._get off_ sometimes but it's like being itchy...you scratch because it takes away the itch and scratching feels good but you don't really enjoy scratching a ton do you?"

“I have so many questions. I… believe you, but I just… cannot even begin to imagine a life like that? It sounds like a horrible way to live.” Eliot blurted out, immediately knowing he had said something wrong when Quentin looked up his eyes glinting. 

"My life is fine. " Quentin couldn't keep a hint of anger out his voice. "I'm not some broken thing you or anyone else needs to fix okay?"  
  
“I… I wasn’t saying you need to be fixed… I don’t… Quentin, I don’t think you’re broken. I just don’t understand? You said… sex can be pleasurable? What’s… the difference? Like do you just not want sex ever, or…” he trailed off, not sure where his train of thought was really going.

Quentin still sounded pissed as he answered. "Yeah, it feels good and sometimes it's convenient like if I can get off faster or I like the person and it makes me feel closer and cuddling afterwards is nice too…” Quentin stood up grabbing a pile of papers and shifting to his desk. His voice was tight and clipped as he said. " Can you leave so I can try to finish...you know and get back to studying? I've got like 15 more chapters to read or I'm totally going to fail like 6 exams…" Quentin trailed off and Eliot didn't even want to fathom how Quentin planned to read 15 chapters in the time he had left to study.  
  
Eliot nodded, “I’ll… go. We should… we could maybe talk about this sometime, if you want to? Or… I could... help you out, if you wanted? You did say you wanted to get off quickly, and I’ve been called the king of quick blowjobs before.”

Quentin frowned, than his face tightened his lips going in a tight line. "I just said I'm asexual and you're offering me a blow job?"

"A platonic, totally unromantic, not exactly sexual no strings attached get back to studying blow job." Eliot tried to inject a little humor in his voice, it must have worked. 

Quentin shook his head than gave a slight laugh , seemingly in spite of himself. "You don’t stop do you, that's a lot of qualifiers."

"I like to make things clear. You'll be back to studying in like five minutes flat."

Quentin appeared to deliberate for a few moments than gave the briefest nod of his head. "I can't believe I'm agreeing to this but...okay. I really really need to study and--"

"Focusing on studying is probably why you can't get off in the first place." Eliot immediately regretted saying it. Quentin had just bared a part of his soul to him and now was not the time to be joking about it, even if he didn't fully understand it. 

Quentin looked slightly nervous. "Should I sit? or stand?"

"Whatever you want." Eliot pushed the still half open bedroom door shut behind him as Quentin nervously pushed his pajama pants and boxers down past his hips. A semi flaccid length was laid bare. Quentin shifted nervously around, his eyes darting from Eliot to the pile of homework, to the textbooks strewn across the bed and back to Eliot. He nervously licked his lips. 

"Is this okaaay--" Quentin's voice rose as Eliot dropped to his knees, gently grasping Quentin's cock and stroking as he quickly checked Quentin's face to make sure he hadn’t changed his mind at the last moment. 

“This okay?” Eliot asked. Quentin didn’t speak but instead nodded, his breath coming a little faster. 

Eliot paused, feeling a niggling worry that made him wonder if Quentin agreeing to all of this just to appease him. He paused and looked up. “If you want to stop at any time, it’s cool...” 

Quentin didn’t say anything just stared, a thoughtful hesitant look on his face. Eliot waited.

Finally Quentin nodded. “Okay.” He looked more relaxed after that simple exchange, the slight tenseness of his shoulder’s melted and his face was more trusting. 

Emboldened, Eliot took Quentin’s length in his mouth, watching Quentin’s eyes as they closed halfway, his head tilted back and bottom lip between his teeth as Eliot sucked. Hollowing out his cheeks and taking as much of Quentin in his mouth as he could. This was by far not Eliot’s first blow job or first hundred but it was one of his best. There was something different in knowing that this was not intended to ever be reciprocated and wasn’t even meant to be for sex. Eliot felt slightly guilty for how turned on it made him thinking of Quentin enjoying this no more than a perfunctory hot shower. It was strange, it was weird and it was actually quite adorable that this blow job was a means to get Quentin back into studying. 

Eliot was surprised when Quentin rested his hand tentatively on Elliot's head, his fingers lightly gripping the hair. “Is this okay?” Quentin asked breathily. Eliot didn’t answer but reached up, placing his hand over Quentin’s pressing his hand down more firmly, letting him know it was okay to touch him. 

Quentin let out a whimper as Eliot pulled away, enjoying the way Quentin’s eyes were almost closed, his breathing heavy and almost labored now. He licked from tip to base before taking Quentin in his mouth bobbing his head and feeling Quentin’s small unconscious thrusts of his hips. He watched Quentin’s face curiously, and noted he didn’t look much different than any of the non-vocal-during sex guys he had blown. He couldn’t help the hint of doubt that flared up in his chest...and if he was honest a little bit of hope too. Because someone not liking sex was as foreign a concept to him as if Quentin had said he didn’t breathe oxygen...it was a hard concept to wrap his head around and sounded unpleasant. 

He knew it almost before Quentin did. The way his hips started moving jerkily and his cock twitched, Quentin was breathless as he said in an almost panicked way “I’m about to, I’m gonna--” Quentin sounded slightly apologetic and opened his eyes looking around frantically. Eliot met his eyes continuing what he was doing, and Quentin hips twitched like he wanted to pull away but Eliot reached up, grasping his thighs and holding him gently in place, but still light enough that Quentin could pull free if he wanted. 

Quentin relaxed after a moment, his body jerking as he came in a few hot spurts. Eliot swallowed, sucking until Quentin pulled away, his legs trembling hard, his breath heavy. 

Eliot sat back on his heels, wiping a hand across his mouth and asked “Better?” It wasn’t the cocky innuendo he normally would have said to a partner but for Quentin, for this situation it fit. 

Quentin nodded before reaching out . He squirted a few pumps of hand sanitizer on his hands looking slightly disgusted and irritated at the mess of saliva and a small amount of cum on his cock. He yawned and grabbed a handful of tissues off his desk, wiping himself off.

“Thank you.” He murmured, sitting back on his bed. He yawned again before reaching out and grabbing Eliot’s hand and pulling him up onto the bed also. “Do you want to cuddle?” Eliot wanted nothing more than to lie next to Quentin for the next few hours snuggled up under the blankets with him. 

But he also knew Quentin had a bunch of studying to do and would wake up panicked and probably bomb his exams from sheer worry if he didn’t reread all the chapters he had wanted. “As much as I would love to lie next to you until it’s time for class...wasn’t the whole point of this so you could study?” 

“Please?” Quentin wheedled. Eliot frowned and settled on the bed next to Quentin, resisting the urge to lie back and drag Quentin down with him. 

“While normally I would love cuddling with you and am in fact an amazing cuddler...I’d be a bad friend if I didn’t remind you, you have 15 chapters to read or you’re going to fail six exams…so...how about I just hang out and keep you company?”

Quentin groaned but after a moment, pulled away and sat back in his desk chair. Eliot pushed the majority of Quentin’s books and papers to the side and made a spot big enough for him to lay down and settled back, absently flicking through one of Quentin’s numerous textbooks as he watched Quentin settle back into a land of note cards and muttered rhetorical questions. 

At some point Eliot fell asleep. He woke as the sun was starting to stream through the window. Sunrise’s early morning rays still graced the sky, and years of waking up at the crack of dawn as a farm boy couldn’t be erased by a few years of city life. Eliot yawned looking around briefly wondering where Margo was and why the bed was covered in papers and textbooks. He turned his head and the night came flooding back. 

Quentin was fast asleep, a pen in his hand resting on a page, his cheek stuck to a book, on fire conjuring and it’s methods of implementation. 

Eliot checked the clock on the desk...there was 3 hours before their first exam. Gingerly, he shook Quentin’s shoulder. “Quentin? Q?…”

He was rewarded with a sleepy. “ The answer is A, C,D and---huh?” Quentin blinked, and sleepily rubbed his eyes, not full awake. “Eliot?”

“Enough studying, come on, sleepyhead.” He pulled Quentin up and maneuvered him towards bed. Quentin collapsed in the downturned blankets and Eliot reached out tucking him in. He turned to leave but Quentin reached out grabbing his arm and sleepily muttered. “Stay?” Eliot didn’t argue. He sat two stacks of books on the floor and shoved the rest of the papers to the side and climbed in beside Quentin. Quentin sleepily turned toward him, resting his head on Eliot’s chest. 

Eliot, reached out shutting the blinds and pulled the covers up over them both. He quickly set an old enchanted wind up alarm clock and then laid back. His eyes already felt heavy and being an old Indiana farmboy or not, Quentin’s soft breaths and gentle weight were enough to make him fall asleep again. 


End file.
